


Wings

by dinbird, transportive



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinbird/pseuds/dinbird, https://archiveofourown.org/users/transportive/pseuds/transportive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snapshots of Nathan and Peter's relationship as they age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a conversation between dinbird and I. She mostly wrote Peter, I mostly wrote Nathan and we passed it back and forth between us for quite some time. It kind of got away from us!

When Nathan came home on leave he was always eager to get Peter out of the house, even if it was just to play catch or teach his little brother to bat. Their parents weren’t all that interested in what was on his mind, so Nathan was glad to get both of them outside for a little while, to let Peter actually _talk_ to someone. He was a sensitive kid, after all. Heart on his sleeve, head in the clouds; not that that didn’t mean that he couldn’t tell that Nathan wanted to get away from there just as much as he did sometimes. For Nathan, though he told himself it was all for Peter, it was a moment’s reprieve from their parents and their instructions and plans and ideas, the ones they expected him to listen and conform to and which, for the most part, he did.

He tried not to show it. But he knew that Peter, bright kid that he was, could see it. Could see a lot more than that, in fact. He knew because usually Peter could tell when there was something on his mind. Perhaps it was fitting that Nathan called to mind just a year ago, when he’d been nervous about telling their parents about his new girlfriend and Peter had looked at him the same way he did now. Noticing that his older brother was quiet – troubled. 

As they sat down now to take a break in the sun, Nathan idly tossed the football between his hands, not saying anything despite knowing what a big tip-off it probably was and seemingly ignoring the fact that Peter was staring up at him with concern in his eyes. Even when Peter finally spoke up. “What’s wrong?”

Nathan stilled and remained silent for a moment, but it was when he answered that his little brother really knew something was the matter. 

“Pete, can I tell you something?”

And if he hadn’t had it before, he now had all of Peter’s attention. The boy watched him with a sense of nervousness and a small amount of excitement but mostly this earnest openness that Nathan didn’t often see in people. It wasn’t that Peter was happy that anything was bothering Nathan, he never would be, but it was just that these moments of theirs, however rare they were, were the most open his older brother ever was. Usually he didn’t say much even then, thinking that these talks were meant for Peter rather than him … but that’s exactly what made this important. 

If Nathan wanted to talk, Peter was ready to listen. “What?”

“You remember that girl I told you about? Mere?” He looked to his little brother for confirmation, even though he knew Peter would remember. “The one I met when I graduated. Real fiery girl down south?”

There was a nod before he asked, clearly concerned, “Did something happen to her?”

Nathan laughed suddenly at that, though it was a strained, almost forced sound. He seemed to find something darkly humorous in the question, but Peter couldn’t for the life of him see what it was. He just kept watching him with a confused frown until Nathan explained.

“She’s having a baby, Pete.”

In an instant his brother brightened up, for the moment no longer worried, not seeing a reason to be. It was traded for excitement so immediately that it should have been surprising, yet somehow wasn’t. “You’re going to be a _dad_?”

Nathan winced faintly, turning his eyes down to fix his stare on the football in his hands. He didn’t look up and he didn’t answer, not right away. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms yet, couldn’t have let himself do that. It was a pregnancy, he was responsible, but was he a father?

“Yeah, guess I am.”

There was a moment of hesitation on his little brother’s end, the excitement fading into confusion at his older brother’s distant, near-reluctant tone. He could tell that something about what he’d said had struck Nathan somehow but he wasn’t sure about what it meant, so in the end, he asked. “Why aren’t you happy about it?”

“It was a mistake, Peter.”

The answer was automatic, and surprised them both. Nathan tried to ignore the way Peter stared at him, all shock and alarm, because he immediately regretted his words. He knew it wasn’t fair of him, to Meredith; it was too cold.

“You don’t mean that,” Peter said, and whatever it was he saw in Nathan’s expression made him sound sure of his words. 

Nathan looked up at his little brother, frowning at his observation. It took another moment for him to work out what to say to that. If he made up his mind to be completely honest with Peter about it, he had to know how to explain. It was frustrating enough to think about.

“No, I guess I don’t. But it wasn’t _supposed_ to happen. I like her, I like her a lot, but I don’t even get to see her all that often. Not with being on duty all the time.” His eyes darkened and followed the horizon to the south, looking back at their old, imposing home. “If Ma—if _Pop_ knew…”

“Oh. Yeah,” was all Peter answered at first, looking down at his feet as he kicked against the rock he sat on. Heel to stone. It created a dull sound that echoed in his suddenly flat tone. “They’re gonna kill you.”

“Yeah,” Nathan laughed again, his voice a little bitter and definitely nervous. In spite of being the favourite – or maybe because of it – they both knew that meant Arthur especially held Nathan to the highest of standards. And disappointment was always followed by anger. “Yeah, they just might.”

They lapsed into silence; not quite comfortable, but certainly not unwanted. Peter picked at the knee of his jeans idly, watching his brother fleetingly and considered speaking, but he was unsure if he should break into his brother’s thoughts. Ultimately it was Nathan who spoke first, something that shocked Peter with how tentative it was, a quiet uncertainty in his admission that Nathan, a man who had grown into his easy confidence early, never showed. He knew he couldn’t expect answers from his little brother—but he couldn’t admit it to anyone else.

“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

Peter just looked at him. “What do you _want_ to do?”

Nathan was almost surprised by how easily the reply came from a ten-year-old, especially when he needed a moment to think about his own. But Peter understood, and that was what made it easy; Peter was the heart of their partnership where Nathan was the mind. It was natural that Nathan thought in 'should's. Leave it to Peter to see it, to know that Nathan had been too focused on what their parents would want, what would be right by Meredith, to have had an answer yet for what _he_ would want. It was no wonder Peter could wait patiently in spite of his age until the answer was formed.

“I guess I’ve gotta support her, one way or another.”

It was still a question of what should be done, but Peter understood what that meant for Nathan. So he nodded to his older brother, falling into silence for another brief moment, eyes on the grass by his feet. He didn’t know what ‘one way or another’ meant in that context, but he knew that Nathan did, and that was really enough. He had his brother’s back no matter what.

Then he tilted his head up towards Nathan, curious in that way children had. “Well, if you haven’t told mom or dad, then who knows?”

“Well, Mere and I. And you, now. You’re the only one I’ve told.”

“… really?”

Peter had this surprised smile and Nathan got the feeling that he was happy to be trusted with this, maybe even proud. He rolled his eyes at his brother and reached over to tousle his hair with one hand, passing him the ball at the same time with the other. “Yeah, just you.” Of course Peter would be pleased with that, he thought idly when Peter accepted the ball, and his priorities managed to lighten even Nathan’s spirit.

But then Peter hit another nail right on. Even with a football in his hands and squinting against the sun, something that made him look like any other kid, he had a way of being so aware of what those around him were thinking and feeling. Now it was both a blessing and a curse; something Nathan needed to hear but didn’t want to think about. 

“Are you scared about telling mom and dad?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he replied, a bit wryly. They both knew that there was no question he would have to. And that Nathan would tell them, whether he had to or not. Nathan would stand his ground, he needed to, but they could both picture the worst for what their parents would think. So Peter nodded, turning his eyes down to fix his stare on the football in his hands.

“Well I still think it's cool,” he said, and something in his tone clearly showed how much he thought it sucked that their parents wouldn’t share his opinion. 

“Yeah,” Nathan answered idly. “Guess that means you're going to be an uncle, huh?”

And just like that, once again, Peter lit up. He was thrilled for this little concession from his brother, the acknowledgement of it in that way, both for himself and for what would have to be Nathan’s family now. His grin was contagious. Nathan couldn’t help it – it made him smile too. 

“C’mon,” he laughed, clapping his hands on his jeans and pushing himself up to his feet. “We can get another round in before dinner. I’ll teach you some of the moves the guys have shown me.”

 

\----------

 

The first time Nathan ever left to go to the Academy, it had taken a while to calm his little brother down. Their parents had seemed unimpressed with the fact that the boy was making such a scene, but Nathan tried to be patient with him.

“Why are you leaving?” Peter asked, sniffling. “Why can’t you stay?”

Nathan crouched down to be on his level, to look him in the eye. “I’m going to the Naval Academy,” he told him. “I’ve wanted to be a fighter pilot since before you were born, kid, and I’m finally old enough to go.”

“You have to learn to _fight_?” Peter asked in a quiet voice, fear in his eyes. He knew it was supposed to be bad. He didn’t like the thought of his older brother fighting, no matter how tough he was.

“I do, but it’s okay. It means I’m gonna take care of you and Ma and Pop. It’s okay if you’re fighting the bad guys, so that you can protect people.”

Peter nodded slowly, considering this, but it was clear to Nathan that he was still unsure from the wide eyes and uneasy glances between Nathan and the door. So when Peter nodded despite this, putting all his faith in his big brother like he always did, Nathan gave him a smile. Tried to be reassuring.

“When are you coming back?” his brother asked, still with tears in his eyes. 

Nathan reached out and cupped the five-year-old’s cheek in his hand. “Hey, Petey, it’s okay,” he promised. “I’ll be home just as soon as I get my wings. Can’t wait to show ’em to you.”

“But _when_?”

Nathan smiled a little at Peter’s insistence, and took a moment to think about. He made a point of rocking back a little on his heels, exaggerating the act of thought. Peter watched him the entire time. Like maybe if he looked away, he’d already be gone. 

“How about this,” he suggested. “Your birthday’s in a few months, and I don’t want to miss it. So how about I promise to do my best to be home before then, so we can have all of your birthday and Christmas together?”

Peter reached up and threw his arms around Nathan’s neck, nodding against his shoulder and then hiding his face there for a moment. Nathan hugged him back just as tightly, glad that his baby brother seemed okay with that.

When he let him go, Peter looked up at him and wiped his eyes and nose roughly with the back of his hand. Nathan’s shirt was wet from tears but when Peter smiled tentatively at him, it was really difficult to mind. 

“You have to bring me a present,” he said.

Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. You bet.”

 

\---------

 

One day of Nathan’s leave almost two years after he found out he was going to be a father, he received a phone call which he answered privately in the foyer. His heart sank when he heard what was said to him. He felt sick. He was vaguely aware of Peter watching him as he hung up, grabbed his coat, and left the house, but he ignored his brother in favour of fleeing the place and the people in it. He stayed out for most of the night, trying to vent and sort through what was happening in his head, process what he’d been told. He had to figure out what to do next; he had to figure out if he could even do anything at all.

His little brother was waiting on the stairs, his knees to his chest, when Nathan came back hours later. It was long past when Peter should have been in bed, even their parents were asleep, but no one had seemed to notice. They looked each other in the eye for a long moment; Peter trying to understand the look his brother had, worrying about the pungent smell of whiskey, while Nathan weighed what he should say to him.

In the end, Nathan walked past Peter and up the stairs without a word.

He barely spoke to anyone over the next few days, let alone a twelve-year-old kid.

It was no wonder Peter was surprised when Nathan finally came to his room one night, knocking lightly on the door and peering in. Peter looked up at him from where he was reading, partly under his covers—a little wary in case he was in trouble for being up late again, but at the same time sensing, knowing that this was something else. Nathan wasn’t mad. He carried the same hollow look in his eyes as he had had for days.

“Hey, Pete,” he said as he sat down on the edge of his bed. Peter drew his legs back to make space for him and sat up, handing him his book as he did, and Nathan reached to put it on the bedside table without a question. He kept his gaze in that direction, as if studying whatever it was that Peter was reading. “I just wanted to come say goodnight.”

Peter nodded and kept his eyes on Nathan’s face, waiting him out. It wasn’t just that, he knew. It was never that easy with Nathan; this was an excuse. Nathan knew he knew, and that’s why he didn’t look up from the fixed point he’d decided on, not wanting to break the bad news that Peter no doubt already expected from him. He needed to say it, to apologise, but it wasn’t going to be easy. He sighed, and tried anyway.

“I’m sorry, but I'm not going to be here for my whole leave this time. I have to fly down to Texas for a few days.”

Peter frowned at him, shifting on the bed to edge closer to his brother, but didn’t touch him. Instead he kept watching him with a concern that was clear in his voice, too. “What? Why?”

“You remember Mere?” Nathan started to ask, voice quiet and a little strained. “My fiery girl—” He cut himself automatically after that, his stomach twisting with a sudden nausea when he tried to call her that. He fell silent for a moment while Peter feared the worst, tense and wide-eyed as he watched his brother. After a few seconds of stillness, Nathan cleared his throat and tried again. This time his voice was duller, more weary; unaffected.

“Meredith's gone, Peter. She and her little girl both.”

“What—”

Peter was shocked. The little baby girl— _Nathan’s_ little girl—was gone, her and her mother. It was sudden, distressing, but he knew not to question its reality, knew in an instant that there was no doubt about what Nathan said. It had swiftly become clear why Nathan had been so morose for the past few days.

Nathan had been grieving.

He shifted a little closer, putting a bit of his weight on his older brother by resting his forehead against his shoulder. A silent offer of his presence that remained all he gave him at first, while he tried to process it himself. He had this urge, this need to ask him if he was okay, but of course he wasn’t. 

“Why are you going to Texas?” he asked quietly instead, because he needed to hear it. He had to have it confirmed by Nathan himself.

“Their funeral's going to be in just a couple of days,” Nathan answered, frowning at the spot in the air at Peter’s nightstand. “I have to go.” He didn’t offer Peter an explanation, because there was none. He just had to go. It was just the way it was. 

But he didn’t want to talk about it either, so there was only a brief delay before he spoke up again, voice still hard though Peter knew better. He’d drawn back from his older brother as he spoke and was watching him now with a look Nathan could picture without even turning his head, he knew it so well. 

“Don't tell Ma and Pop okay? I'm just going to tell them my leave's ending early.”

“Okay,” Peter said with some hesitation. He didn’t want his brother to go—not when he wasn’t okay, not when he was still grieving. Not when he was going back to what the newspapers called a war even though Nathan insisted it wasn’t. But before he could voice his fear and concern, Nathan finally straightened up a bit and turned on the bed to wrap one arm around Peter’s shoulders and kiss the top of his head.

“I’m sorry you never got to meet her.”

It wasn’t until that moment that it really hit Peter, the tragedy of it cemented in those few words. Nathan had wanted to take Peter to see her, he knew that, but now there was no way and he would never get to meet the niece he’d been so excited about. Nathan himself hadn’t even had a chance to really see her much since he’d been so reluctant to let himself even try to be a part of Meredith’s life once they had split up. Their parents had scoffed, all but said ‘I told you so,’ and Nathan hadn’t wanted to go. 

Peter had been the one encouraging him to go see Meredith and the baby, broken up or not. He’d been the one who was always hopeful that they could make it work some way or the other. He had known, had understood in that uncanny way of his that Nathan was scared to love them too much once he was cut out of Meredith’s life. But Peter knew that Nathan wouldn’t ever say those words. And it struck him really hard in that moment between them that Nathan wouldn’t let himself think them anymore, either.

Peter blinked against the tears in his eyes and leaned against his brother, breathing in. He tried to keep the tears from falling. Nathan was mourning; Peter didn’t want to make it worse by getting upset about a loss that wasn’t really his, didn’t want to make Nathan worry about him when he was already struggling with his own grief. “When are you leaving?” he asked after a moment, voice breaking. 

“My flight's tomorrow morning.”

Peter nodded, his train of thought interrupted. The next question was quieter, hesitant but important: “You won't leave without saying goodbye, right?”

The tension in Nathan’s shoulders as he held him was unmistakable, as was the hesitation before he answered. Nathan had wanted to just leave, to avoid it. But he couldn’t turn down that request from his baby brother and they both knew it.

“No. I'll make sure you're up before I go.”

Peter nodded, grateful to have that promise, and moved to lean heavier against his brother. He wanted to hug him, but despite Nathan’s arm over his shoulders, he could tell Nathan was still keeping a distance between them. Peter respected that even if he didn’t like it, so he closed his eyes and just … rested there for a minute. He needed his own time to think about it. He needed to grieve too, for Nathan and the family Peter would never get to meet, a family that was gone just like that. Dead, over. He didn’t need to know how it had happened to know that it was awful. 

“C’mon, Pete. It’s bed time”, Nathan said after a few minutes of silence, interrupting his reverie and squeezing his shoulder. 

Peter pushed off of him, nodding and pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes. He didn’t argue or fight it, just accepted that he was being sent to bed, and Nathan watched as he settled before he tucked him in and bent forward to kiss his forehead. Peter held his eyes for a moment, then burrowed into his pillow with a sigh, but Nathan knew he was still watched even as he turned to the door and flipped off the light.

He stood a moment longer, listening to the sound of Peter’s breathing, before he finally left him behind.

 

\---------

 

Years later, Peter was reeling from the news that Claire— _the_ cheerleader, the girl he had _saved_ —was Nathan’s daughter. He remembered crying over her death, even though he’d never met her. And now that he knew her, apparently she couldn’t die. 

Nathan, however, seemed less than thrilled about it.

“Do you remember,” Nathan asked, turning a pen over his fingers as he stood by his desk, looking to the window. “When I thought she was gone?”

Peter looked back at him, hoping to meet his eye. He nodded, knowing Nathan meant mother and daughter both—but mostly the daughter.

“Yeah.” Peter came closer, reaching out to rest his hands on his older brother’s shoulders, squeezing them as he tried to make him look at him. “But she's here. She's alive, Nathan.”

Nathan managed to nod at that, but he still couldn’t actually face his brother. Maybe he didn’t really want to.

He’d lost her so quickly, and he’d just almost lost Peter too. It was luck that they had come together, that Claire had known how to fix it. The little girl he’d thought was dead for years was the one who saved his brother.

He’d never gone back there after the funeral and his subsequent visit to the bar, the one that he and Meredith had used to go to in order to catch up. He didn’t go back until Meredith had called, actually called, alive if not well, with news that he couldn’t face. It was the middle of his election campaign, and he’d already lost them once.

He knew Peter would insist that they were fine, both him and Claire, that Nathan had nothing to worry about. They could heal so they would be just _dandy_.

It was insane, was what it was. Nathan wasn’t ready to put any faith in these ‘powers’ to do any good for anyone. Maybe they had worked now, by some minor miracle, but what about the next time? It wasn’t right for Peter to expect him to just believe, to accept, that these abilities of theirs would help them do good in the world.

He thought of Heidi and knew his own would do nothing but cause trouble. How the hell was any of it right when he could fly and Heidi couldn’t even walk?

But of course he’d never talked to Peter about any of that.

And Peter saw fate with such a clear, bright earnestness that it was obvious in his eyes when Nathan finally stopped avoiding it and looked him head on. Peter honestly, sincerely believed that all of this meant something, that it meant that it would all work out.

Mostly, Nathan was too tired to fight him on it.

“Yeah, I guess she is.”

 

\---------

 

It was early the next morning when Nathan woke Peter up, one hand gently shaking him as he crouched by the bed. Peter blinked blearily up at his brother, vaguely silhouetted by the dawn light filtering into the room. For a brief moment he forgot why he was being woken up so early, but when he remembered, he still waited for Nathan to say it. 

“My cab’s here, buddy.”

Peter shot up in an instant and Nathan barely had time to react before he found the boy in his arms. Peter clung tightly to him, arms around his neck, and buried his face in his shoulder. Nathan didn’t know quite what to say, even though he knew his brother needed to hear something. He could apologize for leaving him with this on his mind, making him keep it secret from their parents; he could promise he would be okay, or to call as soon as he could. He could tell him it’d all be okay. He probably should.

He didn’t say any of those things.

“Do you want to help me carry my bags downstairs?”

Peter nodded against his shoulder and Nathan couldn’t help a very small smile. He knew Peter wanted to help, so this was one thing he could give him – a chance to do something for his brother. Maybe Peter would be just a little less scared if he had that. 

Nathan pressed a hand to his brother’s back before he drew away and Peter slid out of bed, putting on his running shoes and following his brother out of the room. He saw through what Nathan was trying to do and they both knew it, but the thing was, it didn’t really matter. Because when Nathan let him do something for him, even if he thought it was for Peter’s sake, he was still letting Peter in a little bit. It probably wasn’t enough but it still meant something. 

Nathan carried all the bags but one, of course, but Peter carried the last one without complaint. In fact he was quietly contemplative the whole time, letting Nathan lead the way, waiting to see what would happen once outside. The cab was there, just like he’d said. They loaded the trunk in silence. There didn’t seem to be a lot to say.

Well, except one thing. Peter’s eyes were downcast when he reached for Nathan’s hand, squeezing tight, just for a moment.

“When are you coming home?”

Nathan glanced down at him, and then crouched to meet his eyes. “I’m going to go back to base after the funeral, so not until next leave. But I’ll be back before you know it, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

Peter hugged Nathan even tighter that time, and then stood shivering as he watched the taxi drive away, his brother disappearing toward the airport.

 

\---------

 

Over the next two years, Peter had tried to keep watch of Nathan whenever he came home for his shore leave. He worried about his brother, he always did, but he hadn’t said much about it. He didn’t want to remind him of what he’d lost, unsure of how Nathan had dealt with it since he’d been away – it would have been different if he’d actually been home. If Peter had gotten to see him regularly, he’d have known better what Nathan might have needed from him. So now whenever Nathan was around, Peter just watched. Tried to gauge how he was doing and what might have changed. Looked for the little things. 

It seemed that Nathan was better, at least on the surface. Whenever Peter did try to ask how he was doing he was brushed off, but each time he came home he was doing just a little bit better. Until the one year when Peter noticed a real shift. 

Fourteen years old and sitting on the steps of their vacation home, Peter was just enjoying the warm summer evening in silence when he became aware of Nathan’s shadow cast over him. He twisted his head to look up at the man (because he really was, by then, at almost twice his age), squinting to see his expression from where he was silhouetted by the porch light. What he saw there was a grin the likes of which Peter had come to expect only when his big brother was hassling him.

“Peter,” Nathan pronounced, patting the cardboard box he held under one arm. “Tonight, we are stealing Pop’s liquor. I’m going to teach you how to drink.”

Peter frowned, scrutinizing his brother’s face to see the meaning of this, the reason. But he hesitated for only a moment before he conceded to Nathan with a sigh, knowing he would persist until he had his way anyway.

That, and he couldn’t help but feel curious, both about what Nathan was up to and the prospect of drinking.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Nathan stepped around him, and Peter blinked as the shadow disappeared and he found himself staring up toward the light. He turned quickly and pulled himself to his feet as he trailed after his brother, watching him the whole time. He sensed there was something more to it, why this was happening on this particular night and why Nathan wanted to do it at all. But he didn’t ask, just watched him climb one-handed up into the treehouse and then followed up after him.

Nathan was already standing there, hands in his pockets, looking around at their little hideaway they had made together. The books, blankets and photographs they had used to make it a home, one where there were no manic fathers or passive aggressive mothers, were all still there.

“It feels like it’s been years since we’ve been up here together,” Nathan said.

“That’s because it has.” 

“Really?”

Peter nodded as he stepped out onto the floorboards and blankets, picking up a book that he recalled loving a few years back as it caught his eye. The cover was a bit torn and he thumbed absently at the scratches before he put it down again, shooting Nathan a look. “Yeah. You made it with me the summer before you went to the Academy, remember?”

“Huh.”

Neither said any more about it. Nathan crouched down to open his box of treasure, Peter moving over to help him unload whatever it was he’d brought, just in case his help was needed. He regretted that when the smell of Nathan’s breath hit him and he wrinkled his nose when he shrugged back, glancing up at his brother, unable to hide the accusatory tone. “Did you start drinking already, Nathan?”

“I may have pre-gamed a little,” he replied, nonchalant as he fished out a murky brown bottle—the only thing Peter noted about it was the word ‘Light’ on the label. Nathan fished out a bottle opener from his pocket and cracked it open with a pop before he passed it over to Peter. “Here. We’re starting you off easy.”

“Right.” Peter took it without resistance despite a somewhat wary look at both the bottle itself and his older brother, and took an experimental sip. Nathan laughed at him when he made a face, his eyes watering for a moment.

“You’ll get there.”

Peter shook his head, grimacing. “Why would I want to? This stuff is gross.”

The grin came back, only now Peter knew why Nathan was smiling this readily. There was something a little unsettling about it, something that seemed different. 

“You learn to love it.” He pulled out his own bottle, an amber liquid that Peter recognized as their father’s favourite, cracked it open, and drank from it smoothly. “See? That hits the spot.” He chuckled at Peter’s scepticism and then held out his bottle to tap it against Peter’s. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Teenagers are harsh. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Peter replied in a guarded tone, listening to the clink of their bottles connecting and watching as Nathan took a swig.

They sat in silence for a long time, just drinking in each other’s company and listening to the crickets outside. There was a bit of distance between them now, Peter thought, or maybe this was the first time he’d really noticed it. They watched until the lights went out in their house, neither parent coming out to see where the boys were, and Nathan had to set up one of his military-grade flashlights like a lantern to give them a little extra light.

The bottles started to collect against the small piles of books that surrounded them even though Peter drank slowly and cautiously while he munched on the few snacks his brother had brought up for them. He didn’t think Nathan noticed.

But even if the silence was mostly comfortable it was heavy too, weighted down by what was on both of their minds. It was only once he was a few bottles in that Nathan finally said anything at all.

“I think I’m going to finally go to law school.”

“Yeah?” Peter pressed after a moment of studying him. “When?”

“Maybe I can get a place in the fall semester,” Nathan suggested and he felt Peter watching him closely. 

“Yeah. I think you could,” Peter said slowly, agreeing but not supporting the idea. There was something off about it. It wasn’t much time, not to get prepared; it wasn’t _Nathan_. Nathan, who always had a plan, who only followed the dotted line to X-marks-the-spot after he’d checked the map five times over. 

“I did great on my LSAT,” Nathan continued. “A lot of schools would kill to have me.”

“Probably.”

They lapsed into silence again, Peter staring idly at the bottle in his hands and listening to Nathan opening something new. He felt dizzy, and didn’t understand how Nathan could keep going like that. But he stayed there and didn’t say anything, a silent presence, waiting his brother out since he knew there were more things he wanted to say. He could tell Nathan was rushing things, probably both with the drinks and his life at large. Nathan knew this too, but he wasn’t sure he cared.

“I dunno, though, Pete,” Nathan confessed after a moment more of that tired silence. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, urging his head to stop spinning quite so much. “Sometimes it’s easier up there, flying. Like maybe anything is possible when I’m in that cockpit. Or not, doesn’t even matter if it’s possible or not. It’s almost therapeutic. But I always land in the same damn place and start over from the beginning.”

Peter looked at him again. There was something a little satisfying in seeing that Nathan was getting just as dizzy as he was, but that wasn’t really important right then; the words were. His own, too. “And you’re gonna give that up? Are you sure?”

“Maybe,” Nathan answered, turning his bottle over in his hands as he thought about it, eyes still closed with his face tipped to the ceiling. “Probably. I’ve been in the navy a long time now and my years on active duty have been hard as hell. And I’m at the end of my service obligation. Probably it’s time to move on.”

Peter nodded, watching his brother closely as he took it in. Insights into Nathan’s mind like these were rare, they always had been, and Peter knew to treat them that way. At the same time he didn’t really like the direction things were going. He gnawed on his lip for a moment. “You could always go back, couldn’t you? Get to be a pilot again if you really wanted?”

Nathan nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard, I’ve got a good service record. But should I? I always meant to become a lawyer.”

Peter rolled his eyes and almost snorted. Almost. “You mean dad always meant for you to become a lawyer.”

Nathan opened his eyes and glanced sideways at Peter with a frown. “It’s what I want, Peter.”

“Yeah,” Peter answered, cautiously taking a sip of his drink. That was something that Nathan hadn’t lied about, at least. It really did go down smoother. “Okay.”

After a time, Nathan glanced out the crooked window toward the house before he just flopped onto his back, onto the piles of blankets they had up there. “You know what,” he started, tipping the bottle back and draining the last of the scotch. He rolled the bottle away from him when he was done with it, towards the rest of them, and cursed when he managed to knock over their row of empties. “I’m just going to sleep up here.”

Peter started to stand but immediately wobbled and fell back down, one hand shooting up to his head. Moving had been a bad idea. This whole thing had probably been a bad idea, but even when he made a quick mental promise to not get this drunk again ever, Peter knew distantly that it had been important that he was. 

“Welcome to being tanked,” Nathan laughed. “Probably you should stay up here, too.”

“I don’t get it,” Peter mumbled morosely, but made it over to obediently curl up into their blanket nest next to his brother. 

Nathan patted his shoulder before he flipped their flashlight off, plunging them into darkness. A moment before Peter fell asleep he felt Nathan roll over and drape his arm over him. “You remember that shop girl I met back when I was just starting out at the Academy?” Nathan mumbled, half-asleep himself.

“The one who dumped you ’cause you were trying too hard?” Peter muttered into his arm which he was using as a pillow, but the deadpan if tired tone still carried, and Nathan huffed. His breath smelled even stronger now. Peter could tell even with his head turned away, but he didn’t mind the proximity. It had been years since they’d huddled in all these blankets and it was kind of nice even if it was completely different.

“I called her up the other day, thought maybe we could give it another go. If I’m back in school, I won’t be moving around as much.” He shrugged, causing Peter to make a sound in protest as he was moved. “She was cute, might be nice to catch up.”

Peter breathed out. Didn’t nod, because he was sure his head would spin if he did, even if he kept his eyes closed. “Sure. What was her name again?”

“Heidi,” Nathan said as he started to drift off properly. “It was Heidi.”

Peter was mostly glad that Nathan helped him down from the treehouse the next morning and stayed with him while he emptied out his stomach.

 

\---------

 

Simon was the older of his two boys. Nathan really considered them _his_ boys, too, with all the fierce pride a father could possibly have for his children. He felt guilty that he hadn’t spent as much time with them as he wanted to lately, but the election was approaching fast and he had a lot on his mind. Heidi was understanding about it, if a little pointed. He tried to make it up where he could, for both her and for the kids.

So he’d managed to take the boys out for once, to the zoo this time, and when they got back in he crouched down and handed Simon the key to his office, having to get back to work but wanting to include his kids as much as possible. 

“Hey, champ. You want to get some papers for me? Right bookshelf, red file.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Simon agreed, closing his hand around the key with a smile before he darted up the stairs. Nathan was smiling too; glad to see how eager his son was to help.

Peter had been leaning against a wall when they came in, which was a bit unusual for him; he wasn’t normally there when he could be at home avoiding the less friendly members of the family or spending time with whatever dying person he was assigned to babysit for the week. But he’d been talking to Heidi, which wasn’t really unusual at all. Nathan was mostly grateful they’d gotten along so well, as much as he had outwardly lamented their willingness to team up on him. He had been nervous about what Peter would think of her when he first introduced them, having really wanted him to like her, and almost more important was her liking him, since he’d been head over heels in love with her himself.

He still was. But he couldn’t ignore the knot that formed in his gut whenever he had to look down at her, even if she looked up with nothing but confidence.

“Really Nathan? You trust a nine-year-old over your own brother?” Peter had his hands in his pockets and still had a shoulder against the wallpaper, eyebrows raised as he looked at him. Nathan hardly ever let him into his office. Forget the honour of ever holding the actual _key_. 

“Well, my brother happens to have a tendency to try to be helpful,” Nathan shot back when he stood, tousling Monty’s hair and coming over to kiss Heidi. “Hello, beautiful.”

“I thought you liked helpful,” she teased him, looking at him with those bright, piercing eyes.

“Only to a point,” Nathan corrected, his annoyance at his brother breaking for a moment as he offered a smile to his wife.

“That’s not fair,” Peter protested, shoving away from the wall to give Nathan that look that meant exasperation. Forget offices or helpfulness; it was about trust, something his big brother had refused to give him all too often lately. Nathan shook it off as he turned to look at his brother again, pretending not to notice what his real problem was. 

“Monty, you want to go help your brother?” he asked, still meeting Peter’s gaze while he squeezed his young boy’s shoulder. He waited until the kid had nodded and went upstairs to find Simon before he was willing to keep fighting Peter on anything. “He’s my son. And he does tend to listen to me more than you do, Pete.”

“Yeah, give it a few more years,” Peter scoffed, returning the jab. “You’re impossible to live with, Nathan.” 

They were both used to this, this sparring. At this age it was friendly only rarely and particularly bitter now with the election and with the death of their father still fresh to both of them – things had gotten increasingly more strained between them since they’d had such different relationships to the man. It was obvious to Nathan how much Peter disapproved of his quitting his practise for the sake of politics; and, more to the point, for the sake of their father. But it wasn’t like that meant they’d ever stop finding each other.

At least they could both agree on the reason for that: they were still family. That was just the way it was.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you moved out,” Nathan said with an air of impatience, hand on Heidi’s shoulder as he stared Peter down.

“Ouch,” Peter said darkly at the same time that Heidi warned, “Nathan.”

Nathan looked between them for a moment, then sighed and reached over to wrap an arm around his brother’s shoulders and kiss his hair. 

 

\---------

 

“You know,” Peter started as he tapped his index finger absently against the glass he was holding, that half smile of his in place as he thought back. “I remember you saying you’d be back when you’d gotten your wings. Seems kinda funny now, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a turn of phrase, Peter,” Nathan shook his head, wanting to brush it off immediately. “No need to make something out of it.”

“You really think so?” Peter put the glass down, watching as Nathan took a sip from his own. “I’m not so sure.”

“I must have been one of dozens of boys saying it to their families that day.” Nathan watched him over the rim of his drink, almost challenging. “We were all eager to get through our training.”

“Yeah, but you can fly, Nathan,” Peter insisted, and while his smile was smaller now, more contemplative, it was still clear as day in his eyes. “That sort of makes it special anyway, doesn’t it?”

Nathan just looked at him, feeling reluctant, not wanting to agree to any of that. He’d always seen accident where Peter saw fate. Things and factors that you either controlled or didn’t. There was no larger, invisible hand guiding you, he had to believe that. You had to look out for yourself since nothing else would.

“Maybe. But it’s still just a coincidence. So there’s not much point in worrying about it, is there?”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up and Nathan noted with an inward sigh that his brother was faintly amused. “Who said I was worrying about it?”

“You’re you, Peter.”

Peter nodded, conceding this, and moved over to touch a hand to Nathan’s shoulder. Serious now, as he tried to explain. “And I’ll always worry about my big brother. But it’s not about that. It’s about … destiny, I guess. I just think it’s telling somehow.”

Nathan sighed and gave his brother a half hug with his free arm, turning his younger brother toward him. Peter had both his hands on his shoulders when he moved away, a comforting weight, and Nathan thought that that had to be more telling and more real than whatever destiny of Peter’s could possibly exist. “I know you do,” he said, relenting to that much if not the idea itself. He knew that Peter believed in things wholly and unreservedly, even when no one else did.

Peter’s half smile was back, a little crooked when he looked Nathan straight in the eyes. “Yeah. And you know I love you, too.”

“I know. I love you, too.”


End file.
